


Ruined

by Clara_Jimmy



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Erestor is a secret Fëanorian, Feanorian angst, Friendship, Gen, Is the Arkenstone a Silmaril?, Oath angst, Sack of Erebor, Silmaril angst, Silmarils, Third Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22952932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clara_Jimmy/pseuds/Clara_Jimmy
Summary: An end of a friendship? Glorfindel and Erestor travel back from the disaster of Erebor.
Relationships: Erestor & Glorfindel (Tolkien)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	Ruined

**Author's Note:**

> T.A. 2770 – Sack of Erebor, this is few weeks later  
> Rated teen because of angst and some swearing.

“Yes, I meant it and I won´t change my mind.” 

“I am sorry. I am truly sorry, Erestor, but I had to do it,” Glorfindel said, “the place was an utter disaster and you would have run straight into it.” 

The sun was setting, slowly hiding herself behind the straight line of the forest. There was silence, apart from the nature; leaves rustling on the chill wind and the twigs in their campfire cracking every other second. 

“Erestor?” Glorfindel asked gently after a long moment, searching for some sign from him. He needed some response, taking the words back or glancing at Glorfindel and assuring him that what he´s just said was meant only in anger. 

“I´d appreciate it if you´d stopped,” Erestor replied in a voice that might have been stone cold and dead. He was looking down into the pan and at the dinner he has been stirring. He was in no mood for Glorfindel´s lame attempts at reconciliation. As far as he was concerned, the ties between them had been cut clean. 

It has been haunting him; every moment since Glorfindel had betrayed him by dragging him away and ruining his only opportunity. Erestor kept imagining the jewel. In his palm, weighting almost nothing and radiating with gold and silver light, speaking to him. Instead, he had been stopped in the entrance hall of the palace and had had to deal with Glorfindel, fighting to get rid of him and get him to understand and let Erestor go. Erestor had never felt so keenly and so desperately that he needed to do something. And so hurting and weak because he hadn’t been able to. He remembered he had been screaming in agony, in the last moments as the hall before them had been buried by falling stones, the ceiling and the floor giving way, as everything had been engulfed by flames and molten rock. He had been watching, with his hand reaching out across the floor desperately. Glorfindel had somehow managed to drag him outside and back to the town. Curse his Valar given strength. 

“We will return home, I will live like before and I will talk to you and deal with you if we´ll have to, but,” he spoke again and paused, “don’t be mistaken, Glorfindel. We are no longer friends.” Nobody could banish him from Imladris and as his poor luck would have it, Glorfindel would not leave either. So be it, he could control himself, there was no need to stir trouble in Imladris. But Erestor would not speak one unrequired word to him. 

“You don’t mean that,” Glorfindel said softly, almost too quiet to be heard. His hopes, that Erestor was just consumed in anger and guilt, were dwindling away much like the sunlight. Their friendship was far too strong and precious, it couldn’t end like this. Not because of some fucking Silmaril! 

“You cannot mean what you´ve just said!” Glorfindel exclaimed with an expression of shock, outrage and dread, and walked around the campfire to stand much closer to Erestor who was still focused on cooking. Looking down at him, he waited for a response, but when none came, Erestor ignoring him, he knelt next to him and tried looking him in the eye. 

“Erestor! Erestor, I saved you because you are my friend,” he said, his tone close to plaintive, “you´re my best friend and-“ 

“I could have gotten it!” Erestor shouted, raising his head and facing Glorfindel with eyes full of fire and outrage. “Maybe I would have been able to get the stone!” He stood up suddenly, throwing the spoon onto the grass, and took a few steps back. Fires ignited in his heart again and he felt like he was burning, similarly to how it had been the night of the attack at Erebor. What right had Glorfindel to stop him?! 

“You would have never managed to do that!” Glorfindel exclaimed and stood up as well, “the halls were crumbling! Everything was on fire and coming apart! You would have died within a minute!” He felt angrier every second Erestor insisted on the whole idea. It was more than senseless, it was a cruel obsession. That it should haunt him even past the First Age was utterly appalling. Staying in the hall in Erebor would have resulted in their deaths, nothing more. When Glorfindel closed his eyes now, sometimes there was still chaos. Stones and rubble, as the mountain cliffs had been crumbling down, and fire, raining on them as it had been unleashed again and again by the dragon. The noise had been deafening. Glorfindel would have killed the dragon if he had been alone. But Erestor had been completely beside himself, ready to launch himself into the destruction, and in delusion go search for the Arkenstone. Glorfindel had seen how heedless he had become, driven by that evil cause. It had made him furious to see his friend is such a state, and it had pained him to try to keep him away, Erestor had been thrashing on the floor, yelling the foulest words at him, as Glorfindel had held him down, praying to Eru for having enough strength. Erestor had demanded to be let go, but If Glorfindel had done that he would had run straight into the furnace. Luckily, when he had thought they would both perish, he had found the power to haul Erestor away. 

“At least I would have known!” Erestor shouted, “if it really was the Silmaril-“ Glorfindel made an annoyed noise and Erestor took a breath of air to go on. “I wouldn’t have cared anymore if I died in the process…,” he said much more quietly, “I could have tried to save it… Fuck, you just don’t get it!” Erestor was gesturing wildly and his anger was only growing. 

He had not cared that the fire had made the air unbearably hot to breathe. He hadn’t cared about the walls breaking apart and tumbling down on him. He hadn’t cared about the dragon, huge and wild, lashing his tail and heaving fire, or about the Dwarves who had been preoccupied defending their home. There had been only one thing on his mind and it had been so near, reachable within minutes. Only few steps away and he would have finally seen it, the Silmaril his family had died for. He would have seized it, no matter what it might have done to him. Erestor would have ended the chase, restored what was rightfully theirs. 

“You don´t live with such a legacy!” he yelled, starting to pace, “you don’t know how it feels! You just don´t understand, Glorfindel! I could have- I could have fulfilled what they had sworn!” 

“That oath should have never been sworn to begin with!” Glorfindel yelled back, “it´s treacherous! And causes only harm, look at what it´s doing to you now!” 

“It had been sworn by right! My grandfather had every right to swear it, they all had! The Silmarils were rightfully theirs and they wanted to avenge all the horrors that were done by Morgoth! To think that I had a chance-“ 

“In all likelihood, you hadn’t!” Glorfindel shouted and Erestor fumed, nervously stepping around the campfire. 

“That means nothing!” he exclaimed, visibly frustrated and stuck. His hand clenched on nothing as he sought a way to expel the compiled energy. For a moment there was something akin to silence; only broken every other second by a rustling leaf, the cracking of the flames, or the sizzling from the pan. Erestor kept walking back and forth and Glorfindel watched him with a stern and disapproving expression, his arms folded across his chest. In Glorfindel´s opinion, even attaining the Silmaril would have been futile. An empty victory. The jewel could never live up to Erestor´s expectations. After they had left Erebor he had wondered about what could have happened. He wanted to believe Erestor could decide against it, but the idea still lay on him like a shadow. If Erestor had had a weapon, would he had attacked Glorfindel? He had no doubt about anyone else who would have crossed Erestor´s path, but they were best friends. In the following weeks they have been making their way home slowly, silently, and there has been a storm between them growing every day. Until this evening. 

“If the Arkenstone was the Silmaril it would have burned you anyway, you´re a kinslayer!” Glorfindel spoke at last. 

“And you will never stop bringing that up, will you?!” Erestor exclaimed, turning to him. 

“Considering what had just happened in Erebor-“ 

“Right. The whole time!” Erestor said accusingly and pointed at him, “I know what you had been thinking! Erestor – he will lose his mind just like the rest of his damned family and turn against the innocent Dwarves! He had done it before, he´s no different!” 

“I´ve never said that!” 

“Almost did! And you didn’t have to, because- fuck!” he shouted again and kicked one of the stones that lined the firepit and glared at it as sparks flew up, “I cannot even talk to you right now! I can´t even look at you!” Abruptly, he turned around, then gathered his bag and stomped away from the camp, heading towards the forest. He didn’t know how much time has passed since the disaster, his memories were blurred. He has been wandering aimlessly, dragging his feet, barely responding to anything along the way. But he has slowly come to himself and it has dawned on him just how much Glorfindel had wronged him. Now he needed to leave. 

Glorfindel´s eyes followed him until he got hallway to the edge of the forest. 

“Where are you going?!” he shouted after him, incredulously, “Erestor! Are you leaving for good?!” 

**Author's Note:**

> Erestor is the son of one of the Fëanorians. Guess who :D  
> What I like about Erestor as a character is that Tolkien tells us very little. He could be literally anyone.


End file.
